The First Duty
by Obsidian3
Summary: She told everyone she moved around a lot because of her mother's job. She hated lying to them, but the truth was far too dangerous.
1. Chapter 1

_She stared into dead eyes._

There was gunfire in the distance, occasional screams mixed in, but it was all just background noise to her, and she paid no attention. She didn't even notice the blood trickling down the side of her face from where a bullet had grazed her head.

All she could see were her mother's eyes.

They'd always sparkled so. Trella María Rodriguez de Lucia had always been a woman full of life, of vitality. So many things had shown from her mother's eyes over the course of her lifetime: warmth, love, affection, amusement, strength...

This... **nothing**, this horrible blankness, was unbearable. But she couldn't look away.

It was foolish, she knew it was, but some irrational part of her hoped that if she kept looking, there might be a sign that her mamá wasn't really gone.

She's dead, _her mind whispered._ You know she's dead. You're just torturing yourself. She wouldn't want this.

_She choked back a bitter laugh. No, of course her mother wouldn't want to be dead. She wouldn't want her country to be in the middle of a bloody, violent coup. She wouldn't want to know that her family was being hunted down by a vicious and greedy general to eliminate any claims to the throne._

She wouldn't want to leave me.

_She was jerked back to reality by a hand on her arm. "Princess!" Dimly, she realized that this wasn't the first time the woman had tried to get her attention. "We have to get you out of here!"_

"Mi madre..." she whispered, only then noting the tears that were streaking down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," the woman said sympathetically. Thankfully, there was no pity in her gaze or her voice. Sadness, sympathy... Those the princess could handle. Pity, though, she'd never reacted well to. "All I can do for her is make sure you get out of here safely, so that's what I'm going to do."

Yes... That was what she'd want, wasn't it? The princess nodded, and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet. Her once pristine blue dress was torn in spots and filthy, but she didn't notice. She did finally notice, however, that she was in her father's office. Her mother had brought her up there to hide when the shooting started, but one of the enemy soldiers had gotten a few shots off before they'd locked themselves in...

She didn't look at her mother again. She couldn't. Now that she was out of the dissociative state she'd slipped into upon realizing that her mother had stopped breathing, she knew looking back would break her.

She welcomed the feelings of numbness that slipped over her as the woman lead her out into the hall. She looked down at the dead soldier near the door, recognizing him as the one who'd killed her mother, and felt... nothing. His death wouldn't bring her mother back, or any of the rest of her family. She inhaled sharply and staggered as it finally hit her.

She was alone.

"I'm sorry," the woman said again, as if able to tell that she'd just realized that she was the only member of her family left alive. Her parents, brothers, sister... She didn't know about her extended family, but she wasn't holding out much hope. Her stomach lurched as she realized what that meant.

If Costa Paraíso survived this coup intact, **she** would be the queen.

"Dios mío..." she whispered, both from that thought and the sight of another body up ahead. She was the youngest, the baby of the family. Pedro had been the eldest, and a boy, so naturally he had been expected to take over for their father. That had been just fine with her, truthfully. Why anyone would **want** that kind of crushing responsibility was something she had never been able to understand.

She straightened. So be it, then. If she was to be queen, she was to be queen. Miranda Paloma Lucia Rodriguez was not the kind of girl who backed down from a challenge. Her life belonged to Costa Paraíso, now.

"Who are you?" she asked the woman softly. She needed to get her bearings, to try and get a grasp on the situation, and this seemed like as good a place as any to start. All she really knew about the woman in the gray business suit was that her mother had said she could be trusted. That was enough to make Miranda go with her, but she wanted to know more.

"Captain Elena Montez, of the Princess Protection Program. Your mother contacted us when she became aware of the concerns regarding General Moreno."

"The P-" An explosive laugh escaped her, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle any sound as she tried to control herself. If she started laughing now, she didn't think she'd be able to stop, and as tempting as having hysterics sounded, she knew it wouldn't help anything.

Captain Montez's lips quirked briefly. "Don't look at me, I didn't come up with the name." She sobered quickly as they reached a corner, and she gently pushed the princess up against the wall. Signaling her to stay quiet, she ducked low and peered cautiously around the corner. A slight relaxation of the tension in her body said that there was no one there.

Miranda hadn't given much thought to the gun in her hand, and wasn't sure she liked the look of it. It did explain the dead soldier outside her father's office, though. "I'm just sorry I couldn't get here sooner."

"Why couldn't you?" She was aware of the harsh note of accusation in her voice, but couldn't do anything about it. Her family was dead. She kept trying to push the thought aside for the moment, but it wouldn't be moved. Why couldn't this Captain Montez save her brothers or her sister, too?

"General Moreno moved much sooner then your parents expected. He wants the throne, so his first concern was making sure there was no one left who could challenge his claim."

Well, the woman wasn't talking down to her or acting like she thought that just because she was a princess, she didn't know anything. She could appreciate that. She probably would, too, once they were talking about something other then **her dead family**. "Where are we going?"

"There's a helicopter waiting for us," Montez replied, maintaining a wary attention on their surroundings. "With all the chaos going on, we should be able to sneak out the back and get to it before anyone figures out you're not here anymore. Hold up a moment." They were at another corner. "I doubt he left the stairs unguarded."

She was right. Silently hushing the princess, she crept forward, inching up to the corner and leveling her gun at something the girl couldn't see. She fired off three shots, and it was far quieter then Miranda had expected, much more so then any of the other guns she'd heard fired that day. Evidently the reason the barrel seemed so misshapen to her was because it dampened the sound of the gun, in some way. It gave her hope that they might just make it out of there in one piece.

It also helped her ignore the small part of her in the back of her mind that had just given up and started screaming.

"Come on, we've got to get moving," Montez told her in a low, urgent tone. "They're going to notice some of their people aren't answering, soon." The princess followed her to the stairs, doing her best not to notice the two dead bodies, or the blood spreading out on the marble floor.

The screaming in her head got louder.

Then they ran. Down the stairs - she'd never really noticed how many stairs there were in the palace - out the back door, and across the lawn, out into the night. They'd almost gotten to the hedges when someone spotted them and, shouting an alarm, opened fire.

Surprisingly, the bullets didn't whine as they went past. They sounded more like insects zooming by then anything else, and Miranda almost gave into an urge to swat at them before she realized what they were.

Montez fired off a few shots behind them, and the gunfire paused long enough for them to duck out of sight. She had no idea if her protector had hit the gunman or not, but it didn't really matter. Even if she had, there were more where he came from. Many more.

Too many.

She couldn't understand how he'd gotten so many to join him. Just by the promise of money? She couldn't imagine what else it could be. Her father was- **had been** much beloved of the people. 'A king serves his country, mija, not the other way around - that is the first duty of a ruler,' he'd been fond of telling her. And he'd more then lived up to that. He'd been friend, father, brother, and protector.

She had no idea how she would do the same, but she was determined to try her best. Her people deserved no less from her.

They kept running.

A black helicopter was waiting for them in a clearing. Montez helped her aboard before climbing in herself, and she'd barely cleared the doorway before they began to lift off. Miranda stared out the window, watching her home shrink from sight.

The helicopter flew off, invisible against the cloud-covered sky.  


She groaned and fought the urge to bury her head under her pillow.

She hated that dream. Absolutely, unconditionally, **hated** it. She hadn't had it in a while, and had almost deluded herself into thinking it wouldn't come again.

Of course it did, though. It always did, every time they moved.

She really didn't want to get out of bed. On the other hand, she didn't want to fall back asleep again, and dream further about that night. So she forced herself into motion, shutting off her alarm before it could sound and looking around her new bedroom.

She liked this one, she decided as she got up to go take a shower. It was somewhat bigger then the last - though still smaller then the one she'd grown up in - and the large windows made it nicely illuminated. The balcolny was nice, too - it reminded her of home, but not so much that it upset her.

The bathroom was never as big as she'd like it to be, though. And they were all supposed to be suited for a family? She shuddered to think of what the bathrooms in small apartments looked like.

She was tempted to actually indulge herself in a bath... but no, she didn't have that kind of time. Showering wasn't exactly unpleasant - and taking care of her grooming habits herself was surprisingly gratifying - but baths were reserved for when she really wanted to pamper herself. She sighed quietly and hurried through her shower, quickly drying herself and hurrying back to her room to get dressed.

The mostly desert landscape of New Mexico made her miss Costa Paraíso fiercely, but she did like what she'd seen of Albuquerque so far. They lived more in a suburb then the city itself, of course, but that was just as well. Cities might offer more anonymity, but smaller town people tended to be nicer, and her current situation was definitely closer to the latter.

And given how many times she'd been moved around, she'd had ample opportunity to sample both, so she knew which one she liked better.

Besides, smaller community meant fewer strangers, which meant fewer chances of someone coming along and kidnapping her, which made her "mother" happy.

As if summoned by the thought, she heard Elena yell from downstairs, "Gabriella! Breakfast!"

"Be down in a minute!" she yelled back. Her royal instructors would have cringed at her grammar, but she'd forced herself to adapt her syntax to blend in with her new surroundings. She still occasionally lapsed into Spanish, but people generally seemed to shrug that off.

Despite her words, she lingered in front of her mirror. She didn't want to go downstairs. Not that she wasn't hungry - far from it, in fact - she just didn't want the day to start, and going downstairs would mean that it had.

She was being childish, and she knew it. But she did _not _like starting at a new school. Granted, she'd been promised that she'd be able to stay at this one until graduation, but, frankly, she would believe that one when it happened. Public school had been a rather unpleasant shock at first, but she'd gotten used to it.

More or less.

She sighed, knowing she had no choice. There was only so long she could put something off before her sense of responsibility took over. It was how she'd been raised, and Mir- "No," she told her reflection, quietly but firmly. "Gabriella. You're Gabriella Montez." She didn't usually have to remind herself of that much these days, which was another reason she hated the dreams.

Shaking her head, she grabbed her book bag and headed downstairs.

The PPP had been thorough, she had to admit. Mere hours after her rescue, a cover story had been devised, a paper trail had been made, she'd been given a makeover, and by the next day she was settled in with her new 'mother', Elena Montez. They didn't look much alike, but no one ever questioned that they were mother and daughter. And the agent herself had been unfailingly patient with the young princess as she struggled to acclimate herself to living in the United States. She was so convincing as a single mother working hard to raise her daughter that Gabriella had to wonder if maybe, sometimes, she didn't actually start believing it herself.

The thought made her feel weirdly guilty. She adored Elena, she truly did. But thinking of the woman as her mother, even in an adopted sense, made her remember her real mother. It had taken some practice just to get comfortable calling her "Mom" in public. Thankfully, she didn't insist Gabriella call her that in private as well, recognizing that that would just be too much for her. It had taken almost two weeks for her to stop calling her Captain Montez.

Breakfast turned out to be french toast, which made her smile. For most of her first year in America, she'd been frequently discovering new foods. They weren't all good - that flan she'd tried had been norrible, and she hadn't been able to get the taste out of her mouth for a week - but they were far outweighed by the good. In terms of breakfast, french toast was one of her favorites. Clearly, Elena had guessed she might need a little comfort food that morning. Tellingly, she didn't ask how Gabriella had slept.

Conversation stayed light - mainly consisting of Gabriella inquiring into whatever cover job the PPP had set Elena up with this time - as Gabriella tried not to think too much about the day ahead of her. Still, though, she felt anxious, as she had for most of the move to Albuquerque. The only time she'd felt relaxed was...

She smiled to herself. New Year's Eve.

Not that there hadn't been stress there, too. Skiing wasn't exactly something she'd ever had a chance to try before, and it had proven to be fun enough, but all she'd wanted was to curl up somewhere with a good book, and occasionally watch the people. She hadn't exactly _wanted _to go to that "teen party", but playing the role of Gabriella left her with little choice. She was a princess, though, so she was accustomed to doing things to please others. At least she'd been able to bring her book with her.

Going up on stage, though...

Even now, she almost shuddered, thinking of all the people in the crowd. It wasn't that she was unused to being the object of attention - far from it - but _anyone _could have been in that crowd. She'd known the chances that there was a kidnapper or an assassin lurking around were almost certainly nil, but she simply hadn't been able to calm herself down enough to do what was expected of her.

Not until _he _started to sing.

She smiled again as she ate another carefully cut forkful of french toast. _Troy. _He'd obviously been uncomfortable to be up there, as well, but he'd still managed to start to sing. How could she have done any less? And... Well, it had been fun. Truthfully, she'd always loved to sing, and being able to do so again, and to do it without any royal expectations of propriety, had been a new and exciting sensation.

Of course, she couldn't exactly _explain _any of that, so she'd quickly invented a story about singing in church choir and fainting during an attempted solo. She felt bad about the deception, but it had been for his own good. The less he knew about anything hinting at her true identity, the safer he'd be.

Besides, it wasn't like she expected to run into him again any time soon. Despite what he'd said, he hadn't called her in the week since she'd slipped away at New Year's, and she had half-convinced herself that it was her fault for behaving so rudely.

She resisted the urge to prolong her breakfast unnecessarily. She spent most of the drive to her new school - the unimaginatively named East High; made all the worse knowing there was a West High on the other side of town - making sure she had her cover story straight, going over any and every bit of slang that she'd picked up in hew few years in America, studying a map of the school to make sure she knew where all potential exits were, and uselessly trying to convince her churning stomach that she was in no real danger, so it could kindly keep her breakfast where it belonged.

It was the same thing she did with every new school.

Complaining about her situation wasn't something that a princess did, but being Gabriella meant that she had to at least make a token effort. Which she did, as she and her mother accompanied the principal down the hall. "Mom, my stomach..."

"...is always nervous on the first day at a new school," Elena finished, knowing her role perfectly, as well. "You'll do great. You always do."

Gabriella managed not to grimace at that. Barely.

Elena must have seen some flicker in her eyes, though, because she added, "And I made my company promise that I can't be transferred again until you graduate."

She wanted to ask how she'd done so, but knew that even if they'd been alone and she'd been able to speak freely, she probably wouldn't have gotten an answer. If there was one thing Elena didn't talk much about, it was her work with the PPP.

"I reviewed your impressive transcripts," Principal Matsui informed her as he handed over a folder with information he didn't know she already had, such as her class schedule and a map of the school, among other things. "I'm sure your light will shine very brightly here at East High."

He was being so sincere, she couldn't even bring herself to be upset with him. Instead, she turned to Elena. "I don't want to be the school's freaky genius girl again." That had been why she'd had to leave her last school, and they both knew it: she'd drawn far too much attention.

Elena raised her hands and gently laid them along her jawline in a comforting gesture so reminiscent of something her mother would have done that she felt a physical pain in her chest. "Just be Gabriella," Elena told her, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead.

As if it were so easy, she thought sadly. And even if she took the words to mean "Just do what you want, and forget about what everyone else thinks", that would still go against everything she'd been raised believing.

She allowed the principal to lead her off, managing only one last nervous look behind her. She had to find her locker, then her homeroom. She would just be a normal girl here, she told herself. A quiet voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she'd made that decision at other schools, and it never really worked, but she ignored it. She would be a normal, typical, not-at-all-a-princess teenage girl.

Because, really, what was there at this school to tempt her to do otherwise?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I know I forgot last time, but hopefully everybody knows that I don't own either _High School Musical _or _Princess Protection Program, _as I am not - nor do I work for - the Disney corporation.

* * *

She was starting to wonder if she hadn't taken a wrong turn somewhere. Supposedly, this was her homeroom, but...

Frankly, it looked more like she'd wandered onto the set of a very low-budget Masterpiece Theatre.

But, no. No, there _were _desks. Evidently she was in the right place, her teacher was just... eccentric.

She could handle that.

She had the oddest feeling of déjà vu as she looked around the room, though. Not that she'd been there before, but... Well, for some reason, the back of that one boy's head seemed oddly familiar.

She shrugged it off, deciding she could think about it later, if she needed to.

After handing the necessary paperwork to the teacher, Miss Darbus, she went to go find a seat. Once upon a time, she might have expected someone to give up their seat for her if she asked them to, but fortunately she'd managed to pick up fairly quickly on the fact that this was _not _what a normal girl did in America.

She ended up in a seat at the back of the room. It didn't seem like this homeroom had assigned seating, which was just as well. She bent down to open her bag, putting away the papers she didn't need right then and making sure - again - that she had the textbooks she would need for her classes up to lunch as the bell rang.

"I trust you all had splendid holidays," Miss Darbus began, and Gabriella only half-listened as she advised someone with the last name of Bolton to check the sign-up sheets for new activities. She didn't know about him, but she might do that. Not to join - she had resolved to _avoid _attracting unnecessary attention, after all - but to get a better sense of what was going on in the school, and what her new fellow students enjoyed.

Judging by the lackluster reactions around her, the "Winter Musicale" was not one of those things. Which perhaps shouldn't have been a surprise. Her view of "Mister Danforth" was mostly blocked, but even she could tell that the boy whom Darbus informed was not in a hockey arena was holding a basketball. Clearly, she was a bit out of touch with a few things.

_Like reality? _

She shushed the sarcastic voice in the back of her mind; that was _not _an appropriate attitude for a princess.

"There is also a final sign-up for next week's scholastic decathlon competition." That caught her attention... and instantly made her wary. "Chem Club president Taylor McKessie can answer all of your questions about that."

Gabriella took one look at the prim, vaguely snobbish girl who held up her hand to make it clear who she was, and came to a quick decision.

_Avoid Taylor McKessie like the plague. _

She felt a little bad about it - the girl was probably perfectly friendly once one got to know her - but it was the only way to avoid being drawn back into the academic spotlight.

Her phone started ringing.

She knew it was hers instantly, recognizing the ringtone, but that didn't stop a significant percentage of the class from checking their own phones. A few, unfortunately, kept theirs out just a bit too long. "Ah, the cell phone menace has returned to our crucible of learning. Sharpay and Ryan, cell phones. And I will see you in detention."

She heard a girl's huff of indignation - presumably, the curiously-named Sharpay - and and an oddly metallic thumping sound, but her attention was focused on the phone she'd finally pulled free of her bag.

She couldn't quite help but feel her pulse pick up as she realized who was calling her, but she couldn't help but wish he'd had better timing. She wanted to actually _talk _to Troy, after all, and she couldn't do that in the middle of class.

Especially once Miss Darbus came along to collect her phone, as well. "We have zero tolerance for cell phones in class. So, we will get to know each other in detention. Cell phone." She looked up and blinked. _She has a bucket? For cell phones? _Either this happened a lot, or she'd just had a stray bucket laying around for no reason at all. Neither one would have surprised her.

She didn't want to give up her phone, even temporarily, especially not now that Troy had _finally _gotten in touch with her. But refusing would have just gotten her in further trouble, and following the rules and obeying authority had been ingrained in her practically from birth. Reluctantly, she added her phone to Darbus's collection. "And welcome to East High, Miss Montez."

It may have been petty retaliation, but she refused to thank the woman for her welcome.

"Mr. Bolton, I see your phone is involved, so we will see you in detention, as well." There was that boy again. He really did look familiar... Wait. No, it couldn't be...

"That's not even a possibility, Miss Darbus, your honor," Danforth spoke up, sounding agitated.

There was just no way she was _that _lucky...

"...see, cause we have basketball practice, and Troy..."

_Woo-hoo! _

He and Taylor were also given fifteen minutes, which would make Gabriella's plan to avoid the latter difficult, but she couldn't bring herself to care just then. She tried to calculate the odds of this, and... couldn't quite manage it. Granted, they might have ended up at the same ski resort because it was the closest one to Albuquerque, but that they would end up in the same school, in the same homeroom...

To say the least, it was ridiculously unlikely.

_Unless somebody up there finally decided to give me a break, _she thought, smiling to herself. She tuned out most of the rest of the period, only noticing when somebody named Jason asked Miss Darbus how her holidays had been.

Perhaps fortunately, the bell rang before she could answer, and Troy was out the door almost immediately. Quickly shouldering her bag, she hurried to follow him. She didn't see him in the crowd, until he approached her from behind. "Hey!"

It was him. It was really him. "I don't-"

"-Believe it."

"Well, me-"

"-Either. But how?"

"My mom's company transferred her here to Albuquerque," she said, smiling. Technically speaking, it was the truth. "I can't believe you live here. I looked for you at the lodge on New Year's Day..."

"We had to leave first thing."

She noticed something odd. "Why are you whispering?"

"What? Oh, uh..." He deliberately resumed a normal speaking tone. "My friends know about the snowboarding. I haven't quite told them about the singing thing."

She paused while he was greeted by a passing student, then asked, "Too much for them to handle?" She knew some of her amusement was leaking into her tone, but he'd never guess the reason.

After all, _she _was the one with the secret that would be too much for her fellow students to handle, not him. Compared to that, singing was nothing.

He was quick to deny it, of course, stating that, as far as his friends were concerned, it just wasn't what he did. "That was, like, a different person."

She checked her map to make sure she knew where she was going, then suddenly changed directions, confident that Troy would follow her. She'd mostly gotten out of the habit of assuming that her whims would be obeyed - even before, she'd tried not to abuse that expectation, but people had tended to defer to her whether she wanted them to or not - but every now and then, she still slipped up. This time, though, she didn't regret it. After all, Troy wasn't following her because she was royalty, he was following her because she was herself.

And she liked that.

"So, ah, anyway, welcome to East High." He drew them both to a stop next to a bulletin board, stating, "Oh, and now that you've met Miss Darbus, I bet you just can't wait to sign up for that."

Sure enough, it was the sign-up sheet for the musical. "I won't be signing up for anything for a while," she replied. "I just wanna get to know the school." Not that she believed she'd want to sign up for anything once she had. She'd never really had the chance to just blend into the background, going completely unnoticed. She wasn't sure she'd enjoy it, but she knew it was safer then being in the spotlight. "But if you sign up, I'd consider coming to the show," she teased, believing she knew what his reaction to that would be.

She was right. "Yeah, yeah. That's completely impossible."

"What's impossible, Troy?" a new voice asked. Gabriella felt a moment of tension, but it was only the blonde from her homeroom. "I wouldn't think 'impossible' is even in your vocabulary."

Oddly, despite the fact that this girl was blatantly flirting with Troy - which she did not especially like - Gabriella found herself relaxing. She knew this girl's type, after all. She'd run into it before, at her other schools. The kind of scheming and conniving bitch - perhaps her name was appropriate, then - who gave the word 'princess' negative connotations. Having to deal with her attitude was almost comforting in its familiarity. She didn't so much as bat an eye when Sharpay cattily remarked that it was nice of Troy to show their "new classmate" around.

Nor was she especially surprised when, as she signed her name on the audition sheet, the pink-clad girl took up most of the available space in the pairs auditions section. "Oh, were you going to sign up, too?"

She exchanged a look with Troy. She could see that the suggestion, no matter how "innocent" sounding Sharpay had tried to make it sound, alarmed him.

"My brother and I have starred in all the school's productions, and we really welcome newcomers," Sharpay continued in her falsely pleasant tone. "There are a lot of supporting roles in the show. I'm sure we could find something for you."

Gabriella had heard better.

"No, no, no. I was just looking at all the bulletin boards," she assured her. Wouldn't want to tick off the school's queen bee before she'd even been there an hour. "Lots going on at this school. Wow." The impressed tone in her voice wasn't even entirely fake, as it was true - there _did _seem to be a lot happening in the school. That was just as well for her. If everyone was busy with their own activities, then it would hopefully be easier to escape notice.

Except that Sharpay evidently would keep noticing her if she continued hanging around with Troy, and she had no intention of stopping.

So she let her gaze linger on the sign-up sheet for a moment longer, then turned to Sharpay. "Nice penmanship," she remarked sweetly, then favored Troy with another dazzling smile before heading on her way.

She rather thought her mother would have approved.

* * *

Her first real class was chemistry. She'd used much of the time between leaving her old school and starting at this one to read through their books - Elena having easily been able to get her hands on copies of them - so she would be able to catch up with her new classmates with little difficulty. Fortunately, they weren't very far from where she'd left off before moving.

There was only one minor discrepancy between Elena's information and what was waiting for her: the teacher, Mrs. Sandoval, was pregnant. Given that she had to be at least seven or eight months along, Gabriella didn't see how Elena could have missed it, and suspected she just hadn't seen it as relevant that her 'daughter' knew that going in.

Still, American Teenager Law said that she was fairly well required to tease her 'mother' about it later on.

All things considered, though, chemistry was going just fine.

"So, it seemed like you knew Troy Bolton."

More or less.

She started at Sharpay's unexpected voice - it would figure that they had class together; though it did tell her that Sharpay couldn't be as stupid as she seemed determined to pretend she was, as this was an advanced class - but replied easily enough, "Not really. He was just showing me around." If Troy was determined to keep his singing a secret, there was no way they could have known each other beforehand.

She wasn't sure she liked it, but really, she was the _last _person who could complain about someone keeping secrets.

Sharpay laughed. "Well, Troy doesn't usually interact with new students."

"Uh, why not?" Gabriella asked, looking at the equation Mrs. Sandoval was writing on the chalkboard. She wasn't trying to ignore Sharpay, precisely, but there was really no good way to end this conversation without yelling or seeking the teacher's intervention, and neither would be a good long-term strategy. Her best option, she thought, was making Sharpay become bored with her.

"Oh, it's pretty much basketball twenty-four/seven with him."

Interesting - and good to know what she would have to compete with - but her attention had been diverted by actual classwork. Looking from her notes to the chalkboard again, she mused, "That should be sixteen over pi."

"Yes, Miss Montez?"

Mused _aloud. _Oops. "Oh, I'm sorry, I was just... uh..." Mrs. Sandoval was looking at her expectantly, now, and force of habit had her blurting out, "Shouldn't the second equation read sixteen over pi?"

"_Sixteen _over pi? That's quite impossible." Gabriella waited patiently as she looked at her source book - was it called a Teacher's Edition at this school? She'd been to a number where it wasn't - and found that, sure enough, it was very much possible, indeed. To give her credit, though, she had no problem at all admitting it. "I stand corrected."

Mrs. Sandoval turned to correct the equation, and Gabriella happily resumed working on her notes, only looking up when she added, "Oh, and welcome aboard."

The princess in her, satisfied that she'd helped and was welcome there, didn't pay much attention to the rest of the class. Given that said class included not only Sharpay - who was already jealous of her for attracting Troy's attention - but also Taylor McKessie...

This was not the wisest move on her part.

* * *

Detention was something of a new experience for her - and enough of a departure from the norm that it would have thrown off anyone looking for her, which, combined with the fact that Troy was also there, was enough to overcome any lingering negative feelings she might have had toward Miss Darbus.

Painting set pieces was new, too. Not exciting, but there was a kind of zen quality to it. The rest of the school day had passed without incident. During her free period, she'd just found a quiet spot to read. Her English class had been Literature with Miss Darbus, who really was in her element where theater was concerned. They'd been discussing one of Shakespeare's plays, and she'd played the new student card and merely observed. Her social studies course was covering current events, and anything political always made her want to hide.

She didn't _really _think they were going to go over anything relating to her or her home country, but her political classes were always the ones that stood the highest chances of revealing the truth about her.

She'd been glad when the lunch bell had rung, almost fleeing the room before it had died down. She'd eaten her lunch outside - and the weather really was nice here for early January - then gone to Algebra. It was the class most guaranteed to bore her to tears - she _could _have been taking advanced physics classes, after all - but it seemed to have that effect on most of the students there, so she didn't stand out in the slightest. Indeed, a number of people had even sympathized with her for ending up with that on her first day, and if not friends, she was at least on polite speaking terms with several of them. Presuming Elena was right, and they really would be there until she graduated, she would love having the opportunity to make plenty of friends.

After that had been French class, which she considered kind of cheating - her royal tutors had taught her French long ago, along with English, Chinese, Japanese, and Russian. All of her siblings had learned them, to be better equipped to deal with visiting ambassadors, and the world at large.

The only other choice, though, would have been Spanish, and that _really _would have been cheating.

She wasn't really getting to spend any time with Troy, but she was hopeful that they could talk on the bus ride home. Or, perhaps, if he was getting a ride home from someone, they could be convinced to bring her along? She wouldn't dream of imposing herself on anyone, but if she were invited...

It was right at that moment that she was reminded that she shouldn't show off her math skills in _any _class, not just Algebra. "The answer is yes!"

She looked up in confusion to find Taylor beaming at her, almost bouncing with excitement. Having no idea what the _question _had been, all she could do was ask, "Huh?"

"Our Scholastic Decathlon team has its first competition next week, and there is certainly a spot for you."

It was then that she noticed that, in addition to the required paint supplies, Taylor was also holding several papers with... Her stomach clenched. _No. Oh, no. _"Where did those come from?" she asked, caught somewhere between bewilderment and panic.

Neither was coming through very clearly, it seemed, because Taylor just seemed mildly confused. "Didn't you put them in my locker?"

"Of course not." It was like being caught in a slow-motion car accident. She could see what was coming, knew it would be disastrous, but could do nothing to prevent it.

"Oh. Well, we'd love to have you on our team. We meet almost every day after school. Please?"

She twitched inwardly. Taylor was being so sincere that it hurt, and she knew she _could _be a big help to them. She wanted to just say 'No', but she couldn't. Still, she made one last-ditch effort to avoid needing to. "I need to catch up on the curriculum here, before I think about joining any clubs." That was reasonable, wasn't it?

"Well, what a perfect way to get caught up - meeting with the smartest kids in school."

Sharpay.

Suddenly, things made so much more sense. Sharpay had evidently done some research - and the ease with which she'd picked up on even part of Gabriella's trail made her very nervous - and decided that the best way to get her away from Troy was by making sure she had something else with which to occupy her time. It wasn't as cruel an act as it could have been, perhaps - there wasn't anything really malicious about it - which was something of a surprise... but it was bad enough. "What a generous offer, Taylor," Sharpay added, seemingly just to prove how nice she was... and make sure Gabriella would feel all the worse if she turned it down.

She had an unlikely rescuer in the form of Miss Darbus. "So many new faces in detention, today. I hope you don't make a habit of it, but the Drama Club can always use an extra hand." She was moving about the stage while she spoke, unknowingly making sure no one was paying Gabriella any attention as she struggled to get herself back under control. She could handle this, she could. Even if she did say yes, and did join the Scholastic Decathlon team, she wasn't going to draw the world's attention to her... right? "And while we are working, let us probe the mounting evils of cell phones."

Having just gotten hers back, Gabriella was in no mood to do any such thing. Fortunately, Miss Darbus didn't seem to care all that much if people were listening all that carefully to her while she indulged in a dramatic rant.

It was only when the coach stormed into the auditorium and demanded to know where his team was that she gave any real attention to her audience. "It's called crime and punishment, Bolton. Besides, proximity to the arts is cleansing for the soul."

Gabriella blinked. Bolton? As in... She looked from the coach to Troy, who was scrambling to get down from the tree set piece he'd been on top of previously. She could see certain similarities, she thought. And that did help explain just _why _Troy was so worried about people finding out that he cared about more then just basketball. He couldn't even escape it at home. He was forced to live a life he might have enjoyed to a certain degree, but which restricted what he could be, forcing him to conform to what others judged safe and necessary.

Evidently, they had more in common then she would have dreamed.


	3. Chapter 3

I apologize for not updating sooner, but I lost my job recently, and still haven't found a new one, so I've been rather preoccupied - and the muse hasn't been happy, either. Still, you can't keep a good muse down for long, so I figured I'd start with the easier to update story, and work my way out from there.

Disclaimer: I (still) don't own either _High School Musical _or _Princess Protection Program, _as I am not - nor do I work for - the Disney corporation. I wouldn't mind doing so, though. Florida has much warmer weather then Massachusetts. (Not a fan of winter.)

Also, I feel I should address just when this takes place. The HSM chronology can be a bit confusing, really. The first movie came out in 2006, while the second, the events of which took place only months later, came out in 2007. HSM 3 came out in 2008, and starts with the basketball championship game. Since that would be a year after HSM 1 ended, does that mean the events of that movie take place during early 2007? Well... no. Not in this story, anyway. Due to some story purposes, particularly in the area of technology, it will instead be early 2010. (This has the happy side effect of making it a bit more believable for Taylor and Gabriella to have done what they did during the multi-competition day, as not only would they have more advanced toys to play with, the school would be more technologically integrated. Because, frankly, for 2006, that was, well, kind of ridiculous.) Senior Year will be 2011.

When would this mean the events of PPP take place, you ask?

Maybe you'll find out someday. *mysterious smile*

* * *

Sadly, Troy had never returned after the coach had come to retrieve him and Chad. She hadn't gone looking for him, not wanting to cause any further disruption.

"We've never made it past the first round in the Scholastic Decathlon. You could be our answered prayer."

Part of her wished she had.

"I'm focusing on my studies this semester, and helping my mom get the new house organized. Maybe next year." She'd been surprised to find that Taylor's bookbag looked more like a piece of luggage - complete with handle and wheels - though it spoke volumes about her commitment to her education that she would need such a thing to transport her books. It made Gabriella feel all the more guilty about turning her down... or trying to turn her down, anyway. She quickly - and not terribly subtly - changed the subject to something she was more interested in. "But what do you know about Troy Bolton?"

"Troy? Hmm." Taylor seemed somewhat bemused by this conversational turn. "I'm not an expert on that particular sub-species," she remarked as they moved up a small set of stairs. Leading them toward a group of cheerleaders, she continued, "However, unless you speak cheerleader, as in, 'Oh, my gosh! Isn't Troy Bolton just the hottie super-bum?'"

Gabriella barely supressed a laugh. The _what_? The cheerleaders giggled and agreed with this assessment - it must have been a good thing, then - and paid them little attention as Taylor took her hand and lead her away from them. Once they were far enough away, Taylor drew them to a halt and chuckled as she asked, "See what I mean?"

"I guess I don't know how to speak cheerleader," Gabriella conceeded. And as much as she enjoyed learning, that was one language she had no intention of picking up.

"We exist in an alternate universe to Troy the basketball boy," Taylor explained.

She knew she should probably just let it go - Troy presumably knew how the student body viewed him, and his reaction to the idea that they might learn he sang suggested he didn't want that view to change - but she couldn't. "Have you tried to get to know him?"

"Watch how it works tomorrow when you have lunch with us," Taylor told her. "Unless you'd rather sit with the cheerleaders and discuss firm nail beds."

"My nail beds are history," she admitted, holding up her hands as proof. Partly that had been deliberate - having such short, unadorned fingernails was one more little detail that helped her distance herself from her 'royal image' - and partly it was a side effect of the self-defense lessons she'd **insisted** Elena give her.

Taylor did the same. "Sister!" she exclaimed, sharing a giggle with Gabriella before they resumed heading for the late bus.

Gabriella did her best to steer the subject away from the scholastic decathalon as they headed home. The conversation touched on her history of changing schools, though she did her best to talk more about the places she'd been, rather then the reason she'd had to leave them. Taylor believed her story about her mother's job, of course, but it still made her uncomfortable. She sensed Taylor was a bit jealous that she was so well traveled, though her genuine sadness at having to leave whatever friends she might have made kept the other girl from actually saying anything.

In return, Gabriella asked about living in Albuquerque, and about the people at East High. Life in Albuquerque was not terribly exciting, she was told, which she'd kind of already known, but it was nice to have that confirmed. Not that she could _tell _Taylor that this was a good thing. She mostly learned about the members of the scholastic decathalon team and some of the more academically inclined students, but that was better then nothing. She could ask Troy about the others, she decided.

The thought made her smile.

As much as she was enjoying making a new friend - even one who was still determined to get her to change her mind and join the scholastic decathalon team - it was probably fortunate that Taylor's stop came as soon as it did. Taylor had been slowly but surely wearing down her resistance, and combined with her stated dislike of Troy - and the rest of the jocks, presumably - Gabriella wanted some time away from her to get centered, and to make a plan on how to deal with her.

Ordinarily, she would have pulled out a book and spent the rest of the ride reading, but not here. Not now. She knew, intellectually, that she was in no danger. Still, she was surrounded by strangers, in an entirely new place. She kept a perfectly pleasant expression on her face - not smiling, but polite and friendly, without displaying any particular interest in any one thing - that she and her siblings had dubbed "Royal Expression #7" and let her gaze wander. She observed her fellow students, she took in the details of Albuquerque as it passed by. The route was, of course, different then the one she'd taken to school that morning, but comparing what she saw to her mental map of the town - she hadn't memorized it, yet, but she was familiar enough to mostly figure out where she was - she was able to tell when her stop was coming, and was on her feet even as the bus slowed to a halt.

She'd learned the hard way that, as rude as it seemed to her, thanking the bus driver for the ride was _not _something that _anyone _did in American schools, public **or** private. She'd settled instead on giving them a sunny smile as she got off the bus. Since her smiling was hardly an uncommon sight, no one ever said anything.

Elena, unsurprisingly, wasn't there waiting for her. She was never quite sure what Elena _actually _did during the day - her cover was as an insurance agent this time, while last time she'd (supposedly) worked at a bank, and before that she'd been a real estate agent. At least, as far as anyone who asked knew. While she was certain Elena _could _likely function in any of those jobs - or any of the others - being well-trained enough and convincing enough to do _all _of them seemed a bit... unlikely. And while she believed the PPP could write her any number of convincing resumes, and make certain that they were accepted as fact, the jobs chosen all required a huge investment of time and focus. After all, they were selected _because _people would believe that Elena (and thus Gabriella, as well) would have to move around all the time because of whatever job she claimed to have just then. Elena was her protector; actually _doing _any of those jobs would interfere with that.

And no one ever quite managed to meet any of her co-workers.

Fortunately, as long as Gabriella managed to convey some measure of sullen resentment toward her "mother's" job - difficult, as she hardly felt any such thing toward Elena in any fashion, but she was a good enough actress to pull it off - any friends she might have made tended to leave the subject alone, and no one else really cared enough to ask. (Well, no one but any snobby "princesses" or bullies, but after the training she'd received in dealing with politicians and visiting dignitaries, handling them was child's play.) As long as Elena showed up at any required parent-teacher meetings or, if Gabriella couldn't manage to avoid the academic spotlight, any competitions, no one in the teaching staff said a word.

Settling down on her bed, she started on her homework while she waited. It was hardly difficult - the American educational system didn't hold their students up to the same high standards her tutors had, she'd often noted with dismay - and her mind couldn't help but wander a bit as she worked. Textbooks, notebooks, worksheets... It really was such a waste of paper. Costa Paraíso, being a not-TOO-large tropical island, really had nothing in the way of a lumber industry. As such, any related product - paper, wooden furniture, even firewood - was all imported. Due to the cost of that, as well as more environmentally friendly reasons, her father hadn't had any real difficulty pushing for state-of-the-art recycling programs, as well as switching to electronic filing wherever possible. While she could appreciate that some people might prefer working with hardcopy, and that having physical backups of certain documents could be necessary, this just seemed so... wasteful.

Yes, she herself could often be found with a physical book, but that was mostly because she had no alternative. E-book readers were becoming more and more common these days, but they were too expensive to bring with her to most of the places she went. Elena was also wary of the registration process with most of the popular brands.

However, as soon as it came out, she _was _getting a Kindle 3G (_with _Wi-Fi, thank you very much). If Elena protested, she'd just argue that it would help her establish her cover further.

The teachers hadn't assigned much homework on the first day back, and even only half-paying attention, she finished it in short order. That out of the way, she sat back and started trying to figure out what would be needed to make the school a bit more tree-friendly. Ideally, if it were up to her, she'd simply install electronic workstations for all the students in every classroom. Integrate them into the desks, maybe. Internet access would have to be limited, of course - she knew enough about American students by now to know unlimited access would be horribly abused - but the ability to email homework assignments to teachers or access the day's lessons even while out sick would be fantastic.

At least, it would to her. Her fellow students, however, didn't exactly share her work ethic.

It wouldn't happen, of course. All the good planning in the world couldn't make the budget magically expand enough to cover something so incredibly expensive. She might have more luck with recycling, though. And maybe, she thought, someone could set up some kind of web service that would send students text messages about homework assignments, or reminders about upcoming exams. Maybe she could mention the subject to Taylor at some point, if she continued spending time with the other girl.

She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she nearly fell over in surprise when someone abruptly cleared their throat. She looked up to see Elena standing there. "When did you get home?" It was not the kind of greeting her station dictated she give to anyone, let alone her caregiver, but protocol - and good manners - also called for one to announce oneself and wait for invitation before entering a princess's bedchambers.

In light of her recent thoughts, even if it was properly American, such rudeness felt even more grating then usual.

"A little while ago." Elena's expression was fairly neutral. "What's this I hear about a _detention_?"

Gabriella didn't bother asking how she knew about that. The school _could _have called her... but she was willing to bet that wasn't how the agent had found out. "My cell phone rang in home room. As a result, myself and five other people were detained after school."

Elena blinked. "It... rang?"

Evidently whatever information gathering method she was using wasn't entirely thorough. "Yes. No one did anything more then look at our phones, and some only objected or made a snide remark aimed at another student, but that was sufficient." She shrugged. "In retrospect, I suppose I should have set my phone to 'vibrate'. I'll make certain to correct that in the future." Turning her phone off was out of the question. Part of the reason she had it at all was so that Elena could reach her in case of emergency. Thankfully, that had never actually happened... yet.

"Who was calling you? No one has your number," Elena pointed out warily. She got a new number - sometimes a new phone entirely - every time they moved. Unfortunately, part of the PPP's protocol when they relocated her was that she completely sever all ties with everyone she'd gotten to know duing her time there. As a result, as far as her old friends were concerned, she'd completely dropped off the face of the Earth. She felt bad about that, but there was nothing she could do.

She smiled. "Except for Troy," she corrected. Her smile widened. "He's in my class."

Elena placed the name quickly enough - Gabriella had, naturally, told her all about what had happened at the teen party - and she didn't seem terribly surprised... or happy. She wasn't upset, either, at least not yet. Hopefully, it would stay that way.

Though on the subject of things that would upset her... "There is one other thing, though," Gabriella said with a sigh, losing her smile. She took a breath, then told Elena about how easily Sharpay had picked up on part of her trail. "I know even my cover has me moving around a lot," she finished, "so it wouldn't be unreasonable to find a record of me at another school, but still..."

Elena frowned, considering. "We'll see what we can do about getting rid of any online articles like that. That it had a photo of you, even if it was an older one, is unacceptable." She shook her head, muttering to herself, "Headquarters _will _be hearing from me." She refocused on Gabriella. "You'll have to keep an eye out for miss Evans, though I'm confident in your ability to handle her."

Hearing that lifted her spirits a bit. It was always nice when someone who knew what they were doing expressed a vote of confidence in her. "Thank you. So... What's for dinner?"

"That depends."

She raised an eyebrow. "On?"

Elena smiled. "Whether you're in the mood for pizza or Chinese."

* * *

They'd gone with pizza, in the end, and no more had been said about her detention. Finding a subject of conversation with Elena was never the easiest thing in the world for her. Not that she didn't _like _talking to the woman, but when she refused to discuss anything PPP-related, she never went into details about her cover, and nothing (else) exciting had gone on at school, it left Gabriella at a loss.

That refusal was especially maddening when, like that night, she'd been thinking about her homeland, and wondering what was going on there now, and what - if any - progress was being made in ousting the general.

They'd instead watched the news while eating, and Gabriella had retreated to her room immediately afterward.

Day two at her new school was going a bit more smoothly. Granted, it was only homeroom, but she felt far more positive about it today. Not just because she knew Troy was there, but because it wasn't the first day. She didn't enjoy being the 'new girl'.

And Troy was there.

She couldn't quite manage to wipe what she felt must have been a goofy smile from her face even as Miss Darbus started up. "I expect we all learned our homeroom manners yesterday, people, correct? If not, we have some dressing rooms that need painting."

She didn't know about everyone else, but she had. She'd made certain that her phone was set on vibrate before she'd even left the house.

"Now, a few announcements," Darbus continued. "This morning during free period will be your chance for the musicale auditions, both single and pairs. I will be in the theater until noon for those of you bold enough to extend the wingspan of your creative spirit."

It was just as well she'd been making an effort to be more serious just then, as that would have noticably dimmed her smile. Not that Miss Darbus was holding auditions that day, but that...

...she wanted to do it.

She was rather startled to realize that there was a part of her that very much wanted to try out. It was exactly what she _shouldn't _do if she wanted to avoid attracting attention to herself, it would place her in front of an audience if she got the part - an audience in a darkened auditorium where _anyone _could potentially lurk - and it would go against what she'd told Taylor yesterday afternoon, but...

She wanted to sing.

She was playing a part every day of her life, wasn't she? She could play a character in a musical easily. And as much as she hated to admit it, as much as she would have liked to pretend otherwise, there was another part of her - a smaller part, but it was still there - that _wanted _people to pay attention to her. Not in the way that Sharpay did, but, well, she was a princess. She'd grown up accustomed to being watched, being loved. She hadn't always been comfortable with having so much attention focused on her, but something felt horribly off-kilter when she was trying to be invisible. And besides, if she wanted to make any real, positive changes at this school, she needed people to listen to her, which meant she'd need the kind of power that came with being one of the 'popular kids'.

As for Taylor... Well, if she tried out for the play and refused to participate in the scholastic decathlon, she'd hurt the girl's feelings, no question. So, the only way to avoid that - and avoid raising any unwanted questions - would be to take part in that, too.

_Could _she even do both? Possibly. It might even be the kind of challenge she'd been missing.

She was startled when the bell rang, interrupting Miss Darbus in the middle of a discussion of Shakespeare. She got to her feet, almost forgot to aim another smile at Troy - not really noticing how distracted he himself was - and headed off to class. She did her best to pay attention to her surroundings, as her schedule wasn't exactly the same as it had been the day before, but in the back of her mind, her thoughts kept turning back to the musical.

She'd at least go to the audition, she finally decided. She'd get a good look at what went on, see if it really appealed to her, who her potential castmates might be, and what her competition looked like. After all, just because she wanted the part, there was no guarantee she'd get it, and if there was no chance, there was no need to expose any of the hidden parts of herself to the school.

When her free period finally came along, however, she didn't head right into the auditorium. First, she circled it, checking on every possible access point. If she got the part, she'd want to set up some kind of alarm system so that she'd know if anyone, authorized or not, used one of them. Next, she snuck in, mostly ignoring what was going on up on stage - though she couldn't help but note that her concerns about competition thusfar seemed entirely unfounded - as she tried to identify every possible spot where someone could hide, yet have a clear line-of-sight on the stage. She felt a fierce pang of longing and sadness - the royal guards had always been so good at this sort of thing - but ruthlessly shoved it back down. She could mourn (again) later, if need be. She knew from experience that if she let herself start crying now, she wouldn't be able to stop until well after free period was over.

It was understandably difficult for the PPP to find any psychiatrists to send her to.

During her 'security sweep', she noticed something... odd. Namely, a cart full of cleaning supplies that seemed to be moving of its own accord. Stomach clenching even as she told herself it couldn't have anything to do with her, she cautiously moved closer to investigate. Wait, was that...? She exhaled quietly, tension easing out of her body even as a smile crept onto her face. Sure enough, it was indeed Troy hiding behind that cart. Feeling much more at ease now, she quietly moved over to him. "Hey!"

It wasn't very nice of her, but she couldn't help but grin at his sudden jump. "So, you decided to sign up for something?"

"Uh... No. You?"

"No," she admitted. She still hadn't made a decision one way or another. At least she didn't seem to be the only one having that kind of trouble. "Um... why are you hiding behind a mop?" He hesitated, looking sheepish, and she answered her own question. "Your friends don't know you're here, right?"

"Right."

That was going to have to be addressed. After all, if he got the part, his friends _were _going to catch on. She was distracted from her thoughts by the realization that, although the pianist was playing the intro music again, no one was singing. She looked at the stage to see the next auditioner standing there, seemingly paralyzed by stage fright. _You mean the same kind that **you** supposedly have? _a voice in the back of her mind asked snidely, but she shushed it.

"Thank you," she heard Darbus say dismissively. "Next." The girl literally fled from the stage.

"Miss Darbus is a little... harsh," Troy voiced.

"The Wildcat superstar's afraid?" Some incredulity crept into the question.

"No!" Troy protested. "I'm not afraid, I..." He hesitated. "I'm just... scared."

"Me too... usually." It didn't even occur to her how many ways that statement could be taken, or that it might give away more then she wanted it to.

Miss Darbus then announced the pairs auditions - or audition, rather, since it seemed only Sharpay and Ryan had signed up for it - and they _both _ducked behind the mops.

Well, at least she had company, now.

Once all attention was focused on the stage, they crept over to the back row of seats and sat down, making sure to stay low. The version of the song that the Evans twins performed was more happy and upbeat then any of the others' had been, and it didn't quite seem to fit - and definitely wasn't making the pianist happy - but... they were good.

Very good.

After they'd finished - and earned a round of applause, no less - she followed Troy as he snuck out. She had no idea what he was thinking, but she was almost frozen with indecision. Getting the part wouldn't be easy, now, but she still believed that she - no, _they _- could do it, with some work. Some very attention-attracting work, which neither of them would be happy about.

She could deal with it, though, if she had to. She _thought _Troy could, too, but... _Did _he have to?

"Any last-minute sign-ups?" Miss Darbus called.

That seemed to jolt Troy out of his stupor. "We should go," he whispered.

She disagreed.

"No? Good. Done."

Gabriella then nearly sent Troy into cardiac arrest by slipping around the corner and announcing, "I'd like to audition, Miss Darbus."

"Timeliness means something in the world of theater, young lady," Darbus told her sternly. "The individual auditions are long over and there are simply no other pairs."

"I'll sing with her." And those four words really shouldn't have made her so happy, she knew. But they did.

Miss Darbus was, understandably surprised by this turn of events. "Troy Bolton? Where is your sports posse or whatever it's called?"

To his credit, Troy barely even seemed phased by her inability to figure out such a basic term. "Team," he corrected.

"Ah." Darbus seemed equally unruffled. Evidently, that sort of thing realy did happen all the time.

"But I'm here alone. Actually, I'm here to sing with her." Really, why was that making the butterflies in her stomach swarm the way they were?

"Yes, well, we take these shows very seriously here at East High," Darbus told them. "I called for the pairs audition, and you didn't respond. Free period is now over." She began heading for the exit.

"She has an amazing voice," Troy protested. She should have said something about his own, she knew, but the irony of the current events - she'd finally gotten up the courage to audition, even dragged a reluctant Troy out into the spotlight with her, only to be denied permission to even try out? - was just a bit too much for her.

"Perhaps the next musicale," Miss Darbus suggested. With that, she swept out of the auditorium in her typical dramatic fashion. Troy and Gabriella were left standing there uncertainly... right up until the pianist, whom Gabriella had almost forgotten about, tripped and sent papers flying everywhere. Relieved to have something concrete to focus on, they quickly moved up on stage to help her pick them up. The girl watched them warily, as if suspecting some kind of trap, and Gabriella inwardly frowned. She knew Troy well enough to know that he wouldn't ever have done anything to inspire such behavior, so what was the cause?

"So, you're a composer?" Troy asked.

The girl... said nothing.

"You wrote the song Ryan and Sharpay just sang?"

More nothing.

"And the entire show?"

She still didn't say anything, but at least this time she managed a nod.

"Well, that's really cool. I can't wait to hear the rest of the show," he said as he helped her to her feet. "So, why are you so afraid of Ryan and Sharpay? I mean, it is your show."

"It is?" As nice as it was to finally hear the girl say something... She actually needed to ask if the play _she had written _was hers?

Gabriella decided she would have to have a polite word with Sharpay at some point.

"Isn't the composer of a show kind of like the playmaker in basketball?"

"Playmaker?"

Having never heard that particular terminology herself, Gabriella merely shrugged when the girl looked at her.

"The one who makes everyone else look good," Troy explained. "Without you there is no show. You're the playmaker here, Kelsi."

"I am?" Kelsi smiled shyly.

As far as Gabriella was concerned, this cemented Troy as a nice guy. And he'd even managed to clue her into the girl's name, saving her from having to ask, and potentially hurt her feelings by implying she was too unimportant to bother learning her name.

"Do you wanna hear how the duet's supposed to sound?" Kelsi asked them, moving to sit down at the piano again. Giving Troy her warmest smile, Gabriella followed her.

The as-written song was slower and sounded much sweeter. Not that the version Sharpay and Ryan had done had been _bad_, exactly, but this just seemed... more appropriate.

"_It's hard to believe that I couldn't see,_" Troy sang softly. Gabriella studied the lyrics, doing her best to memorize them as quickly as she could. "_You were always there beside me._"

"_Thought I was alone with no one to hold,_" she chimed in, then she and Troy sang together. Definitely an improvement over Sharpay's version, as far as she was concerned.

"_But you were always right beside me_

This feeling's like no other

I want you to know

That I've never had someone that knows me like you do

The way you do

And I've never had someone as good for me as you

No one like you

So lonely before I finally found

What I've been looking for

Ooh-ooh-ooh"

"Wow. That's nice," Troy said. Before Gabriella or Kelsi could say anything, however, someone else spoke up.

"Bolton, Montez - you have a callback." They performed the first simultaneous three-way double-take upon seeing that yes, that was, indeed, Miss Darbus. "Kelsi, give them the duet from the second act," she continued. "Work on it with them."

"All right," Kelsi agreed excitedly. "If you guys wanna rehearse, I'm usually here during free period and after school, and even sometimes during biology class, You can come and rehearse anytime, Or come to my house for breakfast, I have a piano, we can rehearse there, After school, before school - whatever works, After basketball class..." As Gabriella happily began making rehersal plans with her, she didn't quite notice that Troy didn't exactly seem to share their enthusiasm.

"What?"


End file.
